


A Calm and Latent Sea

by EmilliaGryphon



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:51:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/pseuds/EmilliaGryphon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SOMETHING had to change Iskierka, but Temeraire never imagined it would  be because of this...<br/>Character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Calm and Latent Sea

**Author's Note:**

> An Iskierka/Temeraire one shot!

Temeraire remembered: he remembered Iskierka’s shriek of horror, her cry piercing the very air. Even as he reflected on the noise now, he shook. He felt her fire, her steam raise with the tide and saw her wings snap against her sides as she dived through clouds of cannon smoke. He remembered roaring out her name as she fell. He shuddered as he thought of her talons out stretched yearning for Granby as he too plummeted towards the ocean. Temeraire could not shake the vision from his mind, the vision of Iskierka screaming and crashing against the rocks. He could not forget what he saw later: Iskierka dragging herself upon the shore, the left side of her body smashed and bloody, her wings broken and many of her spikes amiss. What was more; Temeraire could not forget the sight of Granby’s body held protectively against her shallow breathing chest. The battle had been won, no. The war had been won. It was over, but there was no victory celebration to be had. They buried Granby at the covert on Loch Laggan, unable to find his family amid the chaos. Iskierka had been silent the entire time which was most unbecoming of her. Then again, Temeraire noticed that everyone had been silent since the battle. Many were lost, each name more painful than the next. But Granby, dear Granby he was the best of them. Laurence walked with an air of grief, the clouds themselves wept upon the dirt of Granby’s grave. Despite his better judgment, the celestial approached Iskerika now. She was curled upon herself; most of her bandages had been cleaned recently for she had become compliant and subdued to the surgeons. The steam that usually puffed from her spikes in great clouds now only trickled. Her eyes; once brimming with embers all their own, now barely flickered. Temeraire dropped the cow a few dragon lengths from her. Though it landed with a great thud, she did not look up. 

“You must eat something,” he said tentatively, the lack of emotion from Iskierka setting him on edge. She lifted a wing gently, her eyes wary. 

“Eat it yourself, I am not hungry.” He stepped closer; they were alone for she had secluded herself in a rocky out cove on the far side of the lake. 

“It has been weeks and you have not eaten.” She shrugged and dipped her head once more behind her wing. Temeraire looked her over critically and with concern, it would be bad enough if she hadn’t been so injured but that only made it worse. She was deathly thin and it was plain she had not slept or rested properly. 

 

“Iskierka, pray do eat. I know that you are distressed,”

“Distressed?” She suddenly snarled, her head snapping up once more and meeting his gaze. Her own golden eyes held savagery, Temeraire flinched. 

“You know I am distressed? Granby is dead my captain is dead. How would you feel if it had been Laurence who fell in battle and was put into the ground and it had been all your fault?” She trembled, her spikes admitting hisses of steam.  
“You may have another captain yet,” he said. It was not the right thing to say, she stood up and hissed once more, blowing out a weak steam of flame. 

“I shall not take another captain! Not now or ever, no one can replace my Granby!” Temeraire sighed, it was only natural he supposed. He himself would never take another captain if anything ever befell Laurence. 

“Then you will go to the breeding grounds.” He said softly, as much to himself as to her. It would be unfortunate for the corps to lose her, a rare Kazilik breed out of Turkey. Though he admitted that he may also miss her company as well; before Granby’s death Iskierka had forever been obnoxious battle craving and disobedient, unable and unwilling to follow the simplest of orders. Yet somehow, that Iskierka was better than the fading one before him now. 

“I will not go to the breeding grounds!” She snarled, curling back up around herself. “I will go wherever I please!” He took a step to her, nudging the cow which she continued to ignore. Though Temeraire cautiously approached, she made no moves to attack or combat him. Instead she only gazed at the ground, her tail curling as she absentmindedly teased the bandages on her shoulder with her teeth. In the darkening light her red scales were dull and intricate, her spikes or whatever was left of them were ebony against the purple sky. She was remarkable, Temeraire thought as he slowly approached; his rough was down as was his judgment. 

I thought Laurence was dead once, he remembered dreadfully. Thank goodness it was not so. Poor Granby, and it was not her fault so much after all. She tried her best to save him and might have been lost herself. At least the attempt to save him was worthy of valor, and she had never had anyone else to put up with her. She will be quite alone now. He supposed as he found himself seated beside her. She did not object. Silently he draped his tail over hers; it was all to be polite of course. Temeraire had seen grief before when Riley was killed. He had experienced it himself when he believed Laurence dead. It was a strange thing, grief. It was many things which puzzled him, and try as he might he could not find any books upon it to study. Night descended quickly and quietly upon them both, neither made a sound for a long time and when the serenity was broken it was Iskierka’s voice uncharacteristically shy and calm. 

“I never was a good dragon to Granby. He deserved better for you were always right. I have never been anything but a bother. I do not know why I was so troublesome but you see I was young and foolish and thought this world simple. I thought everything could be remedied by fire or fang. I was wrong. I will leave in the morning and find someplace where I will not be such a bother. Granby always talked of a place called North America. Perhaps I will go there and see what they know.” A thrum hummed deep in Temeraire’s chest, though he could not explain it. Her words were strange, the stars shown and it was spring time in England, a pleasant evening if there ever was one but Iskierka’s words had dampened his spirit. It would be a pity to fly so far with no one to talk to, with no captain or fellow dragon to keep one company, he thought. 

“Iskierka” Temeraire said slowly: a thought was forming in his mind which had been ruminating for some time now. He had not yet realized that he desired such a thing until this moment, and it would be inhumane for him not to offer as she seemed so miserable. “Would you still, like to make an egg with me?” She turned to him and smiled for the first time since Granby’s death. Her spiked set off a great deal of steam and she let out a current of fire, nearly setting the trees alight. 

“I would like to very much." She whispered softly after some time, she did not meet his eyes. "That is...if it is not for pity’s sake.” Her words hurt his pride but he swallowed and put his head against hers gently. 

“As my friend? How about as my mate, for that is what they call it when one decides to make eggs with another. It is something more than a friend from what I understand. And if you do try to per sway me as a mate, it may work. I do not want my egg to end up in the hands of some captain like Rankin so I am sure I should have to stay around to see it does not and set fire to anyone who dares harm it. ” Temeraire laughed softy and nodded, he knew little of humans and their ways of eggs but it seemed like a sentimental thing. He said nothing more but flicked his tongue and nuzzled her. He recalled the Polish song after which she had been named so many years ago that she had heard while still in the shell. It had been a pretty tune and he sang it to her now, though he was hardly practiced in the art of song. She did not laugh at him but silently curled up with him in the night, listening to the waves of the sea in the distance, so much like Granby’s friendly laughter.


End file.
